


Ask Me to Stay

by PoisonKisses



Series: The Secret Loves of Poison Ivy [2]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8371585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonKisses/pseuds/PoisonKisses
Summary: Ivy has escaped, and Batgirl races to stop her from leaving Gotham.
Why does Barbara care so much?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for Rose.

“Is this…is this Batgirl?”

The voice was male, older, and Barbara recognized it, but couldn’t place a name at first. Whoever he was, he had her private, secure cell line. Tapping mute, she looked across the table at Dinah, who’d paused in the process of popping a fry in her mouth to stare quizzically at her.

“Hey, I gotta take this one.” Dinah shrugged a shoulder, still curious, but content to wait for the story. Barbara glanced forlornly down at her own burger and fries and hoped whatever this was, it wouldn’t take long and render her deliciously greasy lunch cold.

“Batgirl, go ahead.” For the millionth time she wished she had some voice modulator tech like Bruce. She always worried someone would recognize her voice.

“Hey, Batgirl. This is Aaron Cash. From Arkham?” Cash? What could he possibly want?

“Cash. What is it?”

“You told me to call if something happened. Ivy is out.”

Barbara’s pulse immediately quickened. Ivy…

**Then**

It was chilly, and Barbara tried her best not to shiver as she raced down the darkened road—the road to Arkham. Behind her was Poison Ivy, a welcome warmth at her back. If Ivy was uncomfortable in the freezing air, she gave no sign of it. She didn’t shiver, her teeth didn’t chatter, she just wordlessly clung to Barbara on the back of her bike, arms around Barb’s waist and chin resting on her shoulder. She was close enough Barbara could feel the other woman’s curves pressed against her—could feel warm breath on her neck. It felt good and made Barbara want to shiver for an entirely different reason. She’d glanced back a couple of times to make sure Ivy was ok—she wasn’t used to the sometime supervillain being so complacent—and been met with Ivy’s eerie eyes, a toxic green that was in no way natural, and they honestly creeped her out. They made her wonder what Ivy saw with them, because it felt like she was staring through Barbara, not at her.

It was winter, and though the roads on the outskirts of Gotham—the roads that led to the Asylum—had been cleared of ice and snow, she was still careful as she took the curves on her bike. She’d asked Poison Ivy for a favor before loading her up to turn her in, and much to her surprise, Ivy had been willing. Alysia’s guerrilla garden was barren, the crops chopped down and burned and the soil salted to keep them from growing back. There’d been no ryhme or reason, just simple human cruelty. When they’d pulled up, Ivy had gingerly looked around with a grim expression on her beautiful face, her full lips a thin line of displeasure. 

“Is there anything you can do?” Barbara asked her, not daring to hope. The damage was absolute, total devastation. Nothing would grow here for years.

Ivy regarded her cooly for a few heartbeats. Glancing away, she spoke so quietly Barbara had to strain to hear her. “They died badly. They were alone, and it hurt, and there was no one to help.”

“Who do you mean?” Barbara asked, not understanding at first. “You mean the plants?”

“Yes.” Ivy answered simply and knelt, her slender fingers brushing at the upturned and disturbed soil. She looked…sad. “I wasn’t here. I wasn’t here to save them. To protect them. They needed me…” She trailed off.

“I’m—I’m sorry, Ivy.” And she was, almost to her own surprise. She’d always thought of Ivy as a bit crazy—like any other Arkham inmate who talked to inanimate objects—but what she’d seen over the course of the last year had hammered home that Ivy DID have a connection to the plants—one that wasn’t easily explained by saying she was delusional. 

Ivy regarded her for a moment, then she sighed and brushed a handful of her thick, blood red hair behind her ear—a surprisingly human gesture—and turned back. Barbara watched her stretch her hands out and felt a slight chill run up her spine as she sensed…something. She’d been in the presence of both magic and metahumans—she’d seen some strange things in her time—but feeling Ivy gather power was still vaguely creepy. It wasn’t that it felt unnatural, it was the exact opposite, as though it were too natural—the stuff of life itself pooling around and within the other woman. Within a few moments, she could see the grass and shrubbery around the little garden waving in an unseen and unfelt wind. They were stretching toward Ivy, as though they were beseeching her. Barbara felt a tremor run through the ground and she caught her breath as little green shoots began to push through the soil.

“Yes. Grow for me, babies. Grow for mama…” Ivy’s voice was a whisper, and her smile was as warm and genuine as Barbara had ever seen. Within a few moments the shoots had become full plants, growing quickly, blossoming, then fruiting. Ivy sang to them, her voice a beautiful, breathy alto. Barbara felt almost out of place, as though she were witnessing something no mortal human should have been allowed to. Soon the plants were overhead and beautiful fruit was beginning to swell, weighing down the new trees and bushes. Ivy stood, plucking an orange the size of a grapefruit and whispering “Thank you” before turning to Barbara and handing it to her.

Barbara took it from her. “I don’t believe it. Ivy…you can do this?”

“I can.”

“Why? Ivy…my God, there is so much you could do, so much positive change you could make…”

“Positive for whom?” Ivy was looking away now, out toward the center of the city. “Have you ever heard the saying, ‘you can give a man a fish and feed him for a day, but you can teach a man to fish and feed him the rest of his life?’ True, I could sweep in and solve a myriad of human problems, but what would that accomplish? That would teach nothing, and within a few years we’d be right back where we are.”

Barbara scowled at her. “No. What was I thinking. You don’t want to help people, just your damn plants. We’re nothing but fertilizer for them, right? You want us to die.” She was clenching her fists at the continuation of this argument. Ivy. Stubborn, self-righteous, fanatic Poison Ivy. Why did she even try with this woman?

For her part, Ivy took the accusations without comment and then quietly said, “Right. I suppose now that you have me figured out, we can go to Arkham?

“Fine.” Barbara snapped.

Ivy’d remained silent since, and Barbara was thankful. She contented herself with imagining the look on Alysia’s face when she discovered Ivy’s handiwork. Ivy clung to her, arms around her stomach. Barbara didn’t like Arkham. The Asylum still wasn’t visible but something about the oppressive primeval forest one had to drive through to get to the ancient, gothic, stone monstrosity unnerved her. If the looming atmosphere of the Asylum bothered Ivy, she wasn’t outwardly showing it, though Barbara felt like her grip might have tightened a little when the first sign came into view.

Barbara braked as the outer gate came into view. She didn’t recognize the guard, but he almost spat out his coffee. “Batgirl!”

“Hi, can you let me in. I have Poison Ivy in custody and would like to admit her.” The man nodded and scurried to hit the switch for the gate.

“I’ll call ahead for you so a team will be waiting.” The man was struggling to maintain his gaze on her, but she could see him glancing at the woman on the back of her bike.

“Thanks officer.” Barbara flashed him a smile and then cruised onto the grounds. The Asylum proper was a series of buildings surrounding a large inner courtyard. Barbara knew Ivy would end up in the Intensive Care unit, a heavily fortified, smaller building next to the main treatment facility. It was slightly newer, and Barbara knew Ivy had her own specially designed cell meant to minimize her toxicity and ability to consciously manipulate plant life around her. She’d never actually seen it in person, but she’d seen the specs in Ivy’s file. Created by STAR Labs, it wasn’t exactly meant for Ivy’s comfort. Most of the ice and snow had been piled into big drifts in the main parking lot—big mounds of filth covered crusty powder, and she parked near the entrance. Ivy dismounted as she popped her kickstand and noticed how silent things were minus the rumbling of the bike. It was like the whole island was holding its breath. 

“Are you ready?” She asked.

Ivy gave her an even look. “To be tossed into a dark hole, starved of sunlight and water, and forgotten for the next few months? Hardly.” She rolled her eyes and looked away.

“You brought it on yourself. Maybe you should at least try to get better, rather than assuming it’s all a waste of your time. They want to help you. We want to help you, Ivy.”

Ivy laughed mirthlessly. As she spoke, the inky black of her costume began to recede, pulling back and revealing the perfect, creamy flesh underneath. “No one here wants to help me, Batgirl. At best, a liason from STAR or Waynetech or Lexcorp may be hoping to do another round of attempts to reproduce me or weaponize me. And you? You Bat people are content to lock me away and hope you never have to hear of me again. You put me away and laugh about it. You high five each other, do your victory pose, and move on. Don’t patronize me.” She was still sneering, but her costume was gone—a series of leaves fluttering to the ground and the black ‘material’ seemingly vanished. She stood proudly in a green satin bra and bikini cut panties. Barbara was about to retort when the door opened. Four guards in full protective gear—anti-biological and chemical--came out, forming a loose semicircle around the half naked supervillainess and then leveled their M4s at her. Four little red targeting dots danced on Ivy’s chest, just above her cleavage, and the wild thought that she needed a bra like that flew through Barbara’s head.

Aaron Cash, head of Arkham security, came out. “Batgirl.” His voice was calm and in control. Barbara liked the man.

“Mr. Cash, glad to see you are on duty. I’m handing custody of Poison Ivy over to you. I should point out she did surrender willingly and has been well behaved.”

He nodded. “Thanks for the help, Batgirl. Gerheart, take her to in processing.”

One of the guards stepped forward. His voice was strangely modulated through the full protective hood he was wearing. “On the ground, on your knees, hands behind your head—NOW, Isley!”

Ivy did as instructed, her green eyes focused on Barbara. “So, you care, Batgirl?” There was a bitter edge to it. One of the guards forced her to the ground, planting a knee on the center of her back, between her shoulder blades. Another was forcing her hands behind her back, cuffing them with some odd device that was blinking and that covered her hands completely. A third was fitting a meta-suppression collar around her neck, using a fistful of her hair to guide her head. She offered no resistance, but it was much more physical than Barbara was expecting. She stared in horror. 

“Will you visit me?”

One of the guards--the one who’d just clicked the collar in place—snarled, “No talking, Inmate!” Another forced a gag into Ivy’s mouth.

Feeling vaguely nauseous, Batgirl called after her, “I will, I’ll visit!”

**Now**

Except she hadn’t. She’d had good intentions, but between work, school, training, and being a vigilante, she’d never found the time. She wasn’t Ivy’s friend, or partner, or anything…she’d said yes because she was horrified at the way they were treating the woman, and it was easy to forget that Ivy was a stone cold killer, a monster, a woman with a lot of blood on her hands.

Wasn’t she?

When she’d left, she’d left Cash a card with emergency contacts—a number, an email address. She’d felt responsible for Ivy this time. Ivy hadn’t surrendered to authority, she’d surrendered specifically to Batgirl as a favor—to repay a debt she felt she owed. 

After an interminably long pause, Cash’s voice was questioning. “Batgirl?”

“Yes, sorry, I’m here. How did she escape?” Dinah was eating a fry and pretending like she wasn’t listening. Barbara switched ears to grab one and dip it in ketchup.

“Well, she didn’t. Not exactly. Dr. Maris was assigned to her for therapy. Last night, around two, he walked her to the front desk and signed her paperwork, handed her the keys to his Escalade. It only took her two weeks—that’s a record for her.”

Barbara processed that. She didn’t know if she was more offended by the fact it only took Poison Ivy two weeks to seduce and manipulate a man into setting her free or that she’d evidently been in the Asylum for almost four months with no therapy—she hadn’t been kidding about a complete lack of anyone interested in helping her. 

“She give any indication about where she might be going? What is Maris saying?” She kept her voice down. She and Dinah were the only people in obvious earshot, but you could never be one hundred percent sure.

“No, afraid not. She hopped in the car and left. Maris wasn’t dosed with her pheromones. She had her suppression collar on up until she signed out. She just manipulated him. He’s still maintaining she loves him and will send for him when she’s in a safe, non-extraditing country.”

Poor moron, thought Barbara, another one of Ivy’s long string of dupes. She didn’t spare much pity for him, it was too important to act as quickly as possible. Ivy would waste no time. “Ok, thanks Cash. Anything you can tell me about the vehicle she took?”

Cash was a professional. “Cadilac Escalade, 2016, silver, plate number YMA 78G, that’s Yankee Mike Alpha, seven eight Golf.”

“Ok, thanks Cash, I’ll take it from here.” She ended the call and pulled out her laptop as she took a big bite of burger.

“So, what’s the sitch…you need some help?” Dinah asked, as nonchalant as possible. Barbara chewed as she logged on and woke up the Oracle system. She glanced at her friend, considering.

“Ivy escaped from Arkham. She conned some doc into walking her out the front door. I need to try to head her off before she is in the wind.” Then Dinah said something that caught her up short.

“Why?”

“Excuse me? We’re talking about Poison Ivy here? Remember her?”

Dinah shrugged and took a drink of her soda. “Who just got herself legally released from the Asylum? Who otherwise hasn’t committed any crimes that she is legally answerable for? Let’s face it, Babs, she hasn’t done anything particularly wrong, why do you personally care if she leaves?” Barbara froze.

“Are you suggesting we just let her get away?”

“Well, no. I mean, I guess not. I don’t know.” Dinah gave her a pointed look. “You’re certain there isn’t another reason here?”

“No. I’m Batgirl and I’m responsible for anything she does. It’s on me, Di.” Dinah finally shrugged.

“Alright, as long as your mind is made up. I’ve got your back, whatever you decide."

Barbara nodded, flashing her a grateful smile as she plugged in the plate number. The Oracle system would run an algorithm searching every camera system in the city that was linked up for the plate and track the vehicle. She finished her burger, trying not to think too closely about what her plan was when the search completed.

“Crap, Di, gotta go. I’ll be in touch if I need backup.” She jumped up and began hurriedly packing her things. Dinah, concerned, stood.

“Babs, what’s going on, what are you going to do?”

“She’s at the airport, booked on a flight to Brazil. I need to try and beat her there.” She paused, chewing her lip. “And I’m not sure WHAT I’m going to do in broad daylight. I’ll figure it out on the way.

The trip through Gotham was a bit of a blur. Barbara drove recklessly fast in an effort to get there before Ivy could leave—in fact she knew she had to get there before Ivy made it through security. The alert had popped up on her screen as Ivy was parking, and this time of day Barbara knew the line to get through Homeland Security would be huge—though she couldn’t depend on the actual screening slowing Ivy down. Ivy’s ability to talk and flirt her way past things like this was legendary and even if that didn’t work, Ivy’s pheromones would do the rest. She had to get there.

She just didn’t know what she was going to do when she did. It’s not like Batgirl could arrest her in the middle of the airport. She decided she’d have to come up with a plan when she arrived.

She parked a couple spaces away from Ivy’s stolen car and rushed inside, looking for the gate she’d screenshotted with her phone. It didn’t take long.

Her back was to Barbara, but Ivy was unmistakable. Tall, in a long coat, with her blood red hair hanging in soft curls down her back—thick waves that almost reached the backs of her thighs, she was standing in line for a screening station, a packet of paperwork in one gloved hand and a carry on suitcase’s handle in the other. It was wheeled and behind her, and she was last in the line. Barbara didn’t have much time. Her mind was racing, trying to think of a way to stop her that wouldn't cause too much of a scene. With few options, she got in line behind the other woman, still thinking, and close enough she could smell the jasmine scent of Ivy’s hair.

“I’m not going back.” Ivy’s voice was low but loud enough for Barbara to hear—that same warm, sexy, breathy voice she was so famous for. She still hadn’t turned around. Barbara held her breath, suddenly realizing how terrible this plan was. How had she known who it was? How had she even known Barbara was even there.

“I’m going to walk over to the window. Then I’m going to stand for ten minutes or so before getting back into this line. You may follow me and talk if you like. Just be warned, I’m not going back to Arkham, Batgirl.” Having made this announcement, and still not looking back, Ivy turned and walked away from the line toward one of the floor to ceiling windows with an open view of the aircraft taking off and landing. She walked with the easy grace of a woman who was used to moving in heels, and Barbara felt a stab of envy at how effortlessly she made those 6 inch stilettos look, the way that made her ass sway hypnotically, and it wasn’t a surprise that many eyes turned to watch her.

After a moment’s hesitation, Barbara followed.

“Ivy,” she began, “Look, I know that Arkham is horrible. You have to believe me I had…no real idea. Just, the only way you’ll ever get better, be better, is rehabilitation.”

The other woman shook her head. “Miss Gordon, we both know I’m not going to get any ‘rehabilitation’ from Arkham Asylum. Even if I were insane, they’re not equipped to handle me.” Barbara flinched. She knew. God, she knew…

“I…I’m not sure what you’re,” she began, and Ivy turned to her.

The last time she’d seen Poison Ivy, she’d looked rough. Oh, still stunning and beautiful, Ivy’d been as pale as death, affected by the depths of winter. Now, as the world was warming up for spring, she was…alive. Her skin was flush and warm, her lips full and red, and as she raised her glasses and turned towards her, Barbara could see into her sparkling green eyes—looking very human at the moment and not at all like the eerie, toxic things she remembered.

“Let’s not play games, Barbara. Yes, I know who you are. The microscopic flora in your body are as unique to me as a fingerprint. I can hear their songs. I let you and your little bat clan operate under the illusion that you have a secret identity because frankly I don’t care. You and yours have never been my enemies. You’re all merely nuisances and obstacles.”

Barbara narrowed her eyes. “Fine. No games. We both know I’m not going to let you get on that plane and avoid paying for your crimes, Ivy.”

Ivy smirked. “So you admit Arkham is punitive for me, and not in any way meant as rehabilitation?”

“Prison is where you belong, but for now Arkham is the only place they have to put you.”

“Finally we’re getting somewhere.” Ivy smiled and took a step toward Barbara. “That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here, however.”

“I’m here to stop you from getting away.” Barbara crossed her arms under her breasts, suddenly feeling very under-dressed in her Gotham U tee shirt and torn jean shorts.

“And how do you plan on doing that? Batgirl certainly can’t stop me in broad daylight.” Ivy’s voice dropped to a fake conspiratorial whisper. “I hear she’s an illegal vigilante.”

“I’ll find a way.” Barbara stared back, refusing to back down as Ivy took another step closer. The two women were standing close enough Barbara could have leaned forward and kissed her.

“Perhaps you mean to use the authorities against me? Run and tell DHS that evil villain Poison Ivy is trying to board a plane?” Ivy rolled her eyes. “Don’t. I’ll charm my way out and you’ll spend the night in jail. You really only have one recourse here.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” 

“Ask.”

Barbara stared at her, not understanding. “What?”

“There is something between us, Barbara Gordon. I know you’ve felt it. I’ve felt it. Some connection.” As she spoke, Ivy’s voice dropped—not to her typical, affected, seductive purr, but almost to a whisper, as though she were sharing a secret. She didn’t speak like she was stating a fact—there was a catch in her voice. Barbara found her gaze locked with the other woman’s, and Ivy stared back, her eyes searching Barbara’s face.

“Ivy,” she started, her voice catching as well, “I don’t…”

“Am I imagining it?” One of her hands drifted up, her gloved fingertips almost—but not quite—touching Barbara’s cheek. They flexed, as though Ivy wanted to.

“I—” Barbara paused, not sure what to say. “No. You’re not imagining it, I feel it too.”

Ivy clenched her fingers. “Ok. Ask me to stay. Not because I’m wrong or broken or evil. Ask me to stay because you want me to.” Unsure of what to do with her hand, Ivy settled on brushing her hair back, just as she’d done at Alysia’s garden—the gesture familiar, intimate, human.

“Ask me to stay, and I will.”

A thousand things went through Barbara’s head. There WAS something there, she’d always taken special interest in Poison Ivy. She still remembered opening the the woman’s batcomputer file for the first time, staring at her pictures—from mug shots to security footage to a spread in playhouse magazine (”The New Face Of the Fight Against Global Warming)—listening to her Arkham interview tapes, even reading her academic papers from before her transformation. Dinah’s voice came back to her: why DID she care so much?  
Ivy was searching her face, waiting for an answer, something like hope in her eyes. Barbara opened her mouth to answer, then closed it. She tried again, but paused. She saw the light in Ivy’s eyes die.

“You can’t, can you?” Ivy’s voice was soft. “Too many people wouldn’t understand. You have too many responsibilities as a hero.”

“You…you get it, right?. We’d never work as…whatever,” Barbara couldn’t think of a proper word to describe it. Couple? Girlfriends? Were they talking about something romantic? She’d never even thought of herself as interested in women, but looking at Ivy’s beautiful lips and imagining… “I don’t even know what you’re asking.” She said it with little conviction.

“No. No, I suppose not.” Idly, Ivy did touch her—a single fingertip tracing her lips. Barbara could feel the smoothness of the expensive glove. She was shaking and for one mad instant she almost kissed the other woman’s fingertip. “Perhaps there will come a time when words like hero and villain and criminal and vigilante don’t mean as much. You won’t ask me to stay?”

Barbara shivered. She wanted to. She’d never wanted anything so badly in her life. All she had to do was utter one little word…

“I can’t.”

“I know.” Ivy said it plainly, stepping back, breaking the intimacy of the moment. Then she turned on her heel and walked over to the security station. Barbara didn’t try and stop her.

Miserable, feeling like she’d lost something precious she hadn’t even known she’d had, Barbara watched as Ivy passed security. Just before she walked out of view, she turned and looked back at Barbara and then blew her a little kiss.

As she left the airport, only one thought was on her mind.

Next time, she’d say yes.


End file.
